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The poet E.E. Cummings wrote, 'since feeling is first, who pays any attention to the syntax of things will never wholly kiss you'. In many ways our current society, our vast and hideously clinical organism, can be seen as a great mutiny of syntax over feeling. What happens when we divorce reason in the left brain from its emotional-empathic matrix in the right? At what cost does reason alone build empires? Well, it's no secret that the most efficient means are often the most morally bankrupt, and we're handing over increasingly consequential parts of our nature, responsibilities, and institutions to this cult of cold logic. Our behaviors, values, and systems are evolving to minimize consideration for human feeling. At the same time, our newly infinite capacity to distract ourselves has allowed us to abandon the introspection necessary to care.

Those who benefit from the vapid paradise of the surface are working hard to pervert superficiality and expedience into virtues, and their opposites into vices. Trivia is glorified, and depth a leper. Apathy is en vogue, and sensitivity a crime against fashion. Distraction is bliss, and silence hell (o, awkward, painful, merciless nothing where such feelings are born!). Any moment short of a spectacle triggers a desperate rush for escapism. Give me spectacle or give me death! Isn't that right?

We are just sophisticated animals trying understandably to avoid pain, discomfort, anxiety, depression, and neurosis, but we have chosen to solve the bottomless problem of suffering by drowning in an inch of pleasure. In the myopic pursuit of self-indulgence we have collateralized real joy, belonging, and fulfillment. We fail to see emotions, especially the troubling kind, for what they really are: tools of transformation. They are innate lessons, able to encourage not only our survival but our development, and to help us navigate the complexity of community.

We are here to learn, and anesthesia is no teacher. The greatest teacher is that state of being which has quite possibly the most scandalous reputation in our time: vulnerability. Think of Cummings' kiss. We must remember that a kiss, in all its splendor, is a risk - a risk that carries with it the possibility of revelation. Accept vulnerability and gain the hope of transcendence, or remain empty. It is feeling that guides us from risk to reward, and it is feeling that is the transformative human element.

Our aim should not be to numb or forget, but to remember, and we must remember all of it. We must remember what stirs tears, inspires laughter, turns stomachs, shakes butts, beats hearts, and excites privates. Reason alone is not enough. We must remember what comes first: we must remember the animal. We must lead with feeling, and thought follow like a shepherd, inseparable. We must remember flesh and blood and funk and sweat and intuition. We must remember that silence is golden, language is used and abused, light perseveres, change and time are apex predators, human nature is being held hostage by humans, and testosterone poisoning wreaks havoc on the elephants and the assholes...

This album is a reclamation of instinct - gut behind the wheel, heart riding shotgun, and left-brain tied up in the trunk. Let it wholly kiss you.

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Satori LoserNew York

Satori Loser is an art rock project led by songwriter-poet Tyler Wilson. Founded in Brooklyn, NY, the band rallied around
Wilson's impressionistic narratives of personal experience and cultural criticism, drawing on styles ranging from post-punk to jazz, noise, shoegaze, folk, funk, and world music. Wilson is now based in LA and looking for a new group. tylrwilsn@gmail.com Insta: @satoriloser...more

sentenced to scraping giggles
out of cake and missiles
we're scrubbing criminal dishes
while the soul of summer's being dragged through the street
much as we wishes
we know the night

portrait of light

I had a dream
a prescient lady
she wore a polka-dot dress
we were waiting for the trees to light up
the bats are coming
they have lights in their chests alright

portrait of light

portrait of light is alive in the darkest species of moment
portrait of light is alive in backwards baseball caps on hijabs
portrait of light is alive here in this room tonight
portrait of light is alive let's call its name

portrait of light is alive in New York City (show me the lights in your chest!)
portrait of light is alive in the middle of the night
portrait of light is alive and it always will be (swarm! swarm!)
portrait of light is alive let's call its name

portrait of light

Track Name: Creature Wave

if you don't want to be a creature wave
listen up, lazy deity
you see it's this way

it's time to see that time is a jaw
the change you need's to see change is a jaw
and you live between them
or together they'll sing

it's just a creature wave

first they watched you fall farm from grace
and the phantom jaws creaked open
you didn't mind the why

now they watch you make a scab of sky
and the phantom jaws are clamping down
and together they sing

it's just a creature wave

creature wave
you're still learning
you gun for the what
now the why is burning
now the why is burning bright

Track Name: Palimpsest

papa buried wonder six feet under
it was low him vs high him
forced to tell the story of another
cock goes the hammer, he starts writing

papa buried wonder six feet under
put short sins past warnings
magic was the science of the jungle
now he play the ink in shapes of violence

these years
the nervous scribbles
of a slow god
with a 3D-printed gun to his temple

I'ma dig up wonder six feet under
there are more things than sure things
constant creeps blaring kazoos to gimme the bad news
speed curse, heat hearse
beasts of brunch on ghetto safari
what's this sick miracle? an empty second?
can't stand another!
pleading with the tardy savior

help me dig up wonder six feet under
we're dancing on its grave
Cicero bleeds in a puddle of ink
welders' gloves on his feet
roll head, no hands
there's a man on the tv in his front tooth shouting
grid the grass! piss on the past!
the pen will pardon those who live fast!

these years
the nervous scribbles
of a slow god
with a 3D-printed gun to his temples

wash me in your milk and bran
I'm pluck proud waiting for your hand
I'm scraped clean and ready to be used again
scraped clean and ready to be used again
used
used again

Track Name: Musth

tar oozing from his temples
manifesto dumb as muscles
ill perfume of trophy breath is on his lips
must be in musth he must be in

in that black hole
oh, that special chemical
watch out for that yang
bang bang

what mahout will tame the shape of violence?

mean mug rumblin out the strong-box
dribbling gunpowder from his blind cock
poison of pursuit of all is headless in bikini
must be in musth he must be in

in that black hole
oh, that special chemical
watch out for that yang
bang bang